Ostriches and Evil Music Teachers
by Finger Smith
Summary: Grissom, Nick and Sara discover a body at an ostrich ranch while Warrick and Catherine investigate a tape of a high school theif (second case is better than it sounds) RR!
1. Sleepy CSIs

a/n: hey! This is my first fan fic. Please be nice. No flames. R+R!!!  
  
Disclaimer: Yeah I don't own any of the charaters. Just the plot.  
  
CSI: Crime Scene Investigation  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Nick Stokes glared at the clock as if it had been the one to wake him so early. Actually it was late but working the graveyard shift it made no real difference. He was used to this of course but tonight was different. He and Warrick had logged major overtime the previous two nights on a frustrating homicide involving some person that seemed mildly famous but he and Warrick had never heard of him. He took a sip of coffee and shut his eyes wishing he could've been sleeping instead.  
  
"You look tired," said an annoyingly perky voice. Nick hated it when people were cheerful when he was tired.  
  
"And you aren't?" he said opening his eyes and turning to watch Sara pour herself some coffee.  
  
She shrugged "No, not really."  
  
Nick smiled to himself. Stupid question really. Sara had so much enthusiasm for her job he wondered if she would go home if they let her stay here overnight. Come to think of it, he wondered if she ever slept. He sighed and rubbed his forehead.  
  
"Hi," he heard Sara greet someone. Nick looked up to see Warrick was standing in the doorway of the break room. His look reflected what Nick felt.  
  
"How can you be awake?" Warrick mumbled to her. "If you ask me, that case went on way too long."  
  
"Yeah," Nick agreed yawning. He took another drink. He had to admit the coffee was helping wake him up.  
  
"Well." Sara said on the verge of agreeing, "It could've been important." She said defensively.  
  
"Oh come on!" Nick said, "We had all the evidence we needed to put him away. It should've ended on Tuesday."  
  
"You have to admit it was pretty pointless." Warrick said sitting down next to Nick.  
  
"Fine," Sara caved, "You win. It was pointless to continue it that long," She sighed. She too had been really annoyed with the wife's refusal to co- operate with them. Especially when they had found the gun used to kill her husband hidden under her bed with her prints on it. Even after that she still had refused to speak to them and even Brass's usual effect on people didn't even faze her. Her lawyer had also been equally annoying claiming that our evidence was only circumstantial. Sara didn't see how but they had finally arrested her and now it was over with. She was just thankful for that. She personally hoped she would never hear the name Lou Everett again.  
  
"Alright. . ." Grissom paused reading his CSI's assignments deciding who would be best for what crime scene. It hadn't escaped his attention that Nick and Warrick were barely awake. He decided it was best to split them up. It wasn't a great idea for two sleepy CSIs to be working one case. "Nick, Sara, you're with me. DB in the desert. Catherine, Warrick, you have a videotape to look over. Anonymous student turned in a tape recording the music teacher stealing from student's gym bags."  
  
"So?" Catherine replied hoping there was a point to all this.  
  
"So, among the things pulled from the bags are walkman, shoes, a few wallets and a gun. They recovered the gun from the teacher and want you to run it through ballistics." Grissom said casually.  
  
Catherine frowned. There had to be something he wasn't telling her. It seemed to her like she'd drawn the short straw again. Why would they need 2 CSIs to run one gun through ballistics? Grissom's case seemed much more interesting than hers and Warrick's. Catherine knew better than to judge the case before any evidence had been collected but still.  
  
She glanced over at Sara. She was evidently pleased with her case and Catherine couldn't blame her. A dead body in the desert was much more interesting than a high school thief, even if he did steal a gun  
  
Grissom drove much to Sara's dismay, she had wanted to drive. Nick had teased her saying that there was no way he was getting into the car with her behind the wheel. She didn't find this funny, but Grissom had settled that by reaching the black Tahoe first. Sara had backed down and settled for the passenger seat forcing Nick into the back. After about 20 minutes of driving Sara was wondering if she should have brought a book. She wondered how much further it was when they turned onto I-19. So that was why it was taking so long. They had to get onto the highway. She settled back into her seat for the long wait.  
  
They followed I-19 for another 20 minutes. Nick had fallen asleep in the back seat and was awakened suddenly as they pulled off the highway and then onto a dirt path about 10 minutes later. The car rocked uncontrollably. Could he ever catch a break? He groaned and rubbed the back of his neck. Looking out the window he realized they had to be getting pretty close. The highway behind them was just a thin line in the distance. Turning around, he scanned the area for signs of police cars or any sign that they weren't driving aimlessly. He knew Grissom would never even consider that but he had to be sure. Yawning, he settled back and tried to relax which was hard to do on a gravel road. The sun had almost set and he noticed a sign go past his window. Grissom drove slower than he or Sara would have so you couldn't really miss it.  
  
"Whoa!" Nick said suddenly, "Did that sign say 'Pete Sander's Ostrich Farm?'"  
  
"Weird," Sara agreed, "I didn't know we had ostrich farms in Nevada."  
  
"We do. I think there are a few others in Nevada too. Ostrich meat is supposed to be very good for you, you know? It has less fat, cholesterol and calories than beef or pork." Grissom piped up adding his usual tidbit of information.  
  
Sara didn't find this information very interesting. Maybe she was biased as a vegetarian but ostrich and emu farms seemed a bit cruel to her. So what if they had less fat, calories and cholesterol. They were still birds and it was unfair to hunt them or raise them only to be turned into some disgusting ostrich burger or whatever they made them into.  
  
"And that's where we're headed by the way." Grissom finished suspecting a lack of interest on the ostrich topic. This caught Sara's attention as well as Nick's.  
  
"No way!" Sara said frowning, "Our DB is at one of those slaughter houses?"  
  
"Sara," Grissom warned, "Keep your opinions to yourself while we're there, ok?"  
  
Sara glared and was about to protest when Nick interrupted.  
  
"What, did the ostriches peck him to death?" Nick asked.  
  
"It's a possibility, " Grissom said, "But we haven't even seen the body and you're already calling it. For all we know, the ostriches could have nothing to do with it."  
  
"I hope they did kill him," Sara muttered to herself.  
  
Nick leaned forewords, "The DB may not be one of the farmers, Sara." "Oh really," she said snapped, "Who else could it be then? Who goes to an ostrich farm other than the farmers?" she shot back.  
  
"Ummm. . . tourists?" Nick responded lamely.  
  
Sara rolled her eyes at this, sighed in exasperation and glared at him as if to say "I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer."  
  
Nick slumped back in his seat in time to see them pull into the driveway of 'Pete Sander's Ostrich Farm'. The sign had peeling red, white and blue paint with an emblem of an ostrich in front of an American flag. "How patriotic." He thought to himself. There was a single police car and an ambulance in the parking lot of this farm, if you could call it a parking lot. It was more like a small patch of gravel enough so transport trucks could back in and get out. It had a few dead shrubs littering the area around the lot and but other than that and the occasional cactus, there was no greenery to be found. Not surprising, really. The farm itself was a wooden structure which at one time or another must have been painted to match the sign. Out the back he could distantly make out a fenced in area probably a paddock of some kind for the ostriches, though at the moment he couldn't see any. There was a large metal trough, which stood out a mile being probably the only thing on the whole farm made of any kind of metal. Off to the side there was another wooden building, which he assumed must have held pitchforks or hay.  
  
Grissom braked the Tahoe and climbed out. As he opened the door he was hit by an overwhelming stench. He began breathing through his mouth so he wouldn't have to smell it. No one said anything about the smell and they continued to the inside of the farm. He knew no one would say anything if they could help it. He'd been on the job long enough to have seen much worse than this.  
  
Sara trailed behind him and Nick. He noticed a young man inside the barn who must have been waiting for them. He stood up from his desk and walked over to them. He couldn't have been more than 18 with a mop of messy blonde hair and looked maybe 6'1. He held out a hand and Grissom took it.  
  
"Hi," he said, "My name's Jake Shaw."  
  
"Gil Grissom," Grissom introduced himself and his team, "This is Nick Stokes and Sara Sidle. We're from the Las Vegas Crime Lab,"  
  
"Ah, right," Jake said, "They said you'd be coming. Follow me. The body's out back."  
  
A/N: I don't think this will turn into a N/S or G/S or G/C but hey.. who knows could happen. 


	2. An Old Case

a/n: Thank you to the 4 people who reviewed: The Madhatter2, MissyJane, GeNesiS5, and skyler. thank you sooo much!! Oh and I'm going to try and be true to the characters too. It drives me crazy reading stories where the author changes them.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters (except maybe Kate) but if anyone could tell me the name of the guy who runs ballistics that'd be great!  
  
CSI: Crime Scene Investigation  
  
Chapter 2  
  
While Grissom, Nick and Sara were headed out to an ostrich farm, Catherine and Warrick were stuck at the crime lab. Catherine had just gotten the gun from Brass moments ago and now she and Warrick were headed to Trace  
  
"So how was the Everett case?" Catherine asked making a stab at conversation. She herself had been a little jealous that they'd gotten the good case. She had been stuck with a druggie shoot out. It had been pretty simple and had only gotten a small article in the Las Vegas Sun, whereas the Everett case had been all over the front page. It just didn't seem fair how she always got stuck with the less interesting case, not that it hadn't been fun cleaning up 73 stray bullets, but Catherine had been hoping for something more adventurous.  
  
Warrick groaned. "I hate reporters."  
  
"That bad, huh?"  
  
"Worse. I hate lawyers too." He continued.  
  
"Alright," She said slowly, " I can understand the reporters, but what was wrong with the lawyer?"  
  
Warrick sighed, "Didn't know when to quit."  
  
"Mmm. . ." Catherine said nodding. They had reached the Trace lab by then. Catherine snapped on a pair of latex gloves so her own prints hopefully wouldn't disturb any fresh ones. She took the gun gingerly out of the bag and began dusting it with fingerprint powder with a small brush. She had read the file Grissom had given them and knew that most of them would probably belong to their thief/music teacher, David Williams. Warrick stood nearby.  
  
"Why did Grissom assign both of us to this one?" Warrick asked sleepily. It puzzled him that such a small task required 2 CSIs. Grissom could have taken either of them with him as well. He stifled a yawn and plopped himself into a nearby chair. He watched for a few minutes as she shrugged and continued dusting the gun.  
  
Catherine stared at the small revolver she had just dusted. She had only removed quite a few prints from the handle, which was made of dark brown leather. She removed a few more from the barrel but other than those there were no other visible prints on it other than a few partials. She was a little surprised with the lack of prints. Perhaps it had been wiped clean or had never been held more than once. But no, it didn't look new and the prints were definitely fresh.  
  
She examined the prints closer and realized that the ones on the handle were probably the freshest. Catherine held the gun out to Warrick who had also pulled on latex gloves. He took the gun carefully and headed to the MP- 4. The MP-4 is basically a fixed camera used to take pictures of prints and prepare them for AFIS. He placed the revolver under the camera and peered into the lens. He looked at the white dust that had settled into the shape of a few fingerprints. 5 or 6 of them overlapped but the 4 that didn't stood out perfectly.  
  
"Wow," he commented softly.  
  
"What?" Catherine, who was hovering nearby, asked.  
  
"Nice prints on the handle," he said turning away from the revolver and looking at her. She gave a small smile.  
  
"Yes, I know. They look the freshest. The ones on the barrel aren't as fresh so I'm not sure if they'll be of any use." She replied.  
  
Warrick, who had redirected his attention to the gun, was now looking at the barrel marked with a little logo, 'Smith & Wesson'. He adjusted the view and saw that Catherine was right. The prints on the barrel weren't that great. Most of them were smudged and the few that remained weren't very clear. Warrick flipped the gun over and examined the barrel on the other side. Same thing except for near the top. He had one semi-decent print on the barrel. Quickly, he photographed this and enlarged it. Doing the same for the rest of the visible prints on the handle, he noticed that the trigger was too thin to have picked up even a partial. Once he had finished with the small gun, he went over to AFIS and began a search for matching prints.  
  
"I'll run it through ballistics. You see if anything comes up here." Catherine said taking the gun and walked out of the trace lab, leaving Warrick behind.  
  
Catherine walked into ballistics to find a young woman with curly brown hair hunched over a computer. She looked up as Catherine entered the room.  
  
"What do you have for me tonight, Cath?" she said returning to what she was working on.  
  
Catherine smiled. Of all the people at the crime lab, Kate was one of the few people who called her that. She had only been working here for 2 weeks as a substitute for the usual ballistics expert who was in the hospital for surgery, but already she knew more peoples' names and faces (including day's) than Catherine did.  
  
"A .41 caliber Smith & Wesson revolver. Do you have time to help me run it through?" Catherine asked.  
  
"Hmm. . ." Kate thought out loud, "I think so." She replied smiling. Catherine cleaned off the fingerprint powder and loaded the revolver with only one of the 6 shots. She put on her protective headphones and goggles and walked over to the water tank. Tilting the revolver sideways, she fired into the tank. She watched it spiral through the tank and waited until it settled at the bottom before retrieving it. She looked at the marks on the bullet before handing it over to Kate. Kate began typing on the keyboard of the IBIS (Integrated Ballistic Imaging System) and photographed it (much like AFIS except for bullets). Within 10 minutes, they had a match. Kate printed it out and began to read over it.  
  
"Your Smith & Wesson is registered to a Mr. Simon Colton." Kate said smiling.  
  
"Simon Colton," Catherine repeated "Ok, but has it been used in a homicide?" Catherine said getting to the point.  
  
Kate's smile grew, "You know it. That revolver was used in the murder of one Francis McKinney, age 38, married, owns a small business. Shot once through the back of the head with a .41 caliber revolver. Also," Kate paused, "slashes and cuts were found from an unknown weapon on the guy's arms, torso and face. No witnesses and our guy, Simon Colton, stated that his gun had been stolen 3 weeks before the shooting. He reported it and everything. They hadn't been able to find the weapon, that is, until now." Kate finished grinning.  
  
Catherine frowned, "Why don't I remember that one?" she asked.  
  
"It says it was on day's." Kate explained.  
  
"Alright then," Catherine said starting to smile, "This case just got interesting. Thanks Kate." She took the print out from Kate and headed back to trace. Halfway there she met Warrick coming to see her.  
  
"Did you get anything off of our gun?" Warrick asked.  
  
She nodded and explained everything that was on the 2-page printout she'd gotten from ballistics.  
  
"Well, I guess that makes sense if he lost the gun," Warrick said, "AFIS came back on the prints from the handle. They're all from the same person, David Williams."  
  
"The teacher," Catherine said nodding. "Any other prints?" she asked hopefully. She was praying they had more to go on than this.  
  
"Just one," Warrick answered, "The partial from the barrel. But it came back unknown."  
  
"What do you think? A student maybe?" Catherine speculated.  
  
"Maybe, I'm running it for matches under 17 right now." Warrick said.  
  
"I think we should dig up what we can find on the Francis McKinney case," Catherine suggested, "But first we should call Brass." Catherine said flipping out her cell phone and dialing his number, "Let's see if he can get us an audience with Mr. Williams."  
  
A/N: Please review!!! 


	3. Angles

A/N: Thanks to those who reviewed and to MissyJane who told me the name of the guy on ballistics. Hope you enjoy the next chapter!  
  
CSI: Crime Scene Investigation  
  
Chapter 3  
  
Jake Shaw led them through the barn, if you could call it that. On the outside it did look like one, but on the inside it was more like an office building than a barn. A small portion was dedicated to a few stalls, possibly for nursing sick ones but other than that, it consisted of nothing more than a small office with a single computer, 2 desks and a few filing cabinets. Of course this was only one room of the whole building. "The rest of the barn was probably, as Sara would put it, a 'slaughter house'" Grissom mused to himself. He had noted as they stepped inside that the smell had disappeared. Jake led them past all this and out to the back to the paddock they'd seen from the car. As they went outside again the smell hit them pretty hard once again, but Jake didn't seem to notice it at all.  
  
Sara felt the gravel crunch underneath her shoes as she followed behind Nick and Grissom. She had been quiet for now and had said nothing about the smell. She didn't enjoy being here and, as much as she didn't like to admit it, she was tired. She may have been extremely dedicated to her job, but she was still only human!  
  
Following Jake as he opened the lock on the gate and walked through to the paddock, she couldn't help but feel sorry for the ostriches. The ground had shifted to a mixture of dirt and sand and this seemed to suit the ostriches just fine. There were about 50 or 60 of them huddled in a corner and even if it was a big pen, she could imagine what it was like for them knowing (or maybe not knowing) the end was coming.  
  
While Sara was feeling sorry for the ostriches, Nick had more pressing issues on his mind; mainly avoiding the little presents the ostriches had left behind for them. Apparently, the barn crew had been told not to come in here because the field was littered with ostrich droppings and feathers. Nick noticed Grissom seemed to be watching the ground too. Behind him he heard Sara give a small gasp. He turned around and saw that Sara had stepped in what had to have been the mother of all ostrich piles.  
  
Nick fought back a laugh but couldn't help but smile at his co-worker's situation. The look on her face showed pure disgust at this.  
  
"Shit." She swore softly.  
  
"Literally," he added. She looked up at him. "Didn't grow up on a farm did you, Sidle?" he said walking towards her and trying not to laugh. She put down her kit, pulled her foot free and balanced on one foot.  
  
She glared at him daring him to laugh at her. "No, Stokes, I didn't," she said putting emphasis on his name. She grabbed on to his arm for balance as she shook what she could off her shoe. Nick bit his lip to stop from laughing. She saw this and muttered something like, "It isn't that funny."  
  
"You only think that because it happened to you," he said as she released her grip. He started to walk away, "And Sara," he added turning around and grinning, "Watch where you step."  
  
Sara blushed and tried to scowl. She decided to catch up to Nick instead, dodging what she saw on the ground. Thankfully, Grissom hadn't noticed and had continued following Jake. She didn't need any more embarrassment tonight though Grissom probably wouldn't have laughed.  
  
They saw a small group of people up ahead with flashlights examining what she could only guess was their body. She hadn't realized until now just how dark it was. The sun had set fully now and the world was beginning to grow dark. She fumbled with her kit and brought out her own flashlight. She switched it on, aimed it at the ground and continued walking. Grissom did the same a few minutes later as they came into view.  
  
Grissom greeted the policeman and Brass as they momentarily abandoned the body. Brass began to bring him up to date on the case.  
  
"The vic.'s name is Arthur Corby. The guy over there, Jake Shaw, ID him." Brass began.  
  
"Coroner pronounced . . .?"  
  
"Thirty minutes ago. Seems he's been dead awhile."  
  
"How long?"  
  
"2, maybe 3 days."  
  
"No one reported anything? No missing person's report?" Grissom questioned.  
  
"No, nothing. Said he didn't work Tuesday or Wednesday. Came in to work this afternoon and couldn't find him."  
  
"What about other workers?"  
  
"He said that Arthur worked with another guy but he didn't know the name,"  
  
Grissom nodded, "Get a list of all employee's names. I want to talk to them." Turning his attention to the two younger CSIs he said, "Nick search the area. Take lots of pictures, bag anything that could be useful. Sara, you're with me."  
  
While Sara and Grissom examined the body, Nick began to process the scene. It was pretty tedious work and difficult since the scene wasn't all that fresh. The ostriches would've ruined any footprints, so there was no lead there. So far, nothing was out of place as far as he could tell. He circled the body and spanned out from there when he noticed something shining back from his flashlight. If he had been moving any faster he never would have noticed it. He bent down and took a closer look. Pulling out a yellow card with the number 1 on it, he snapped a picture. He held it up and smiled.  
  
"Stray bullet," he said glancing back at the body. He left his first discovery where he found it and headed back to Grissom. He reached the body and without a word, grabbed the metal detector. The smell of decomposing flesh was really strong now and he started breathing through his mouth.  
  
"What'd you find, Nicky?" Grissom asked not turning his attention away from his work.  
  
"A bullet, though it was near impossible to see." He explained. Grissom nodded.  
  
"Wouldn't happen to go with that gun, would it?" Sara asked pointing to a black object to her left.  
  
Nick frowned, "Why would a killer leave his gun at the scene?"  
  
"That's what we're trying to find out." Grissom replied ending their conversation. Nick grabbed his metal detector and switched it on heading off to his newly discovered piece of evidence.  
  
Sara watched Nick's retreating back before returning to the ground sample she had been taking underneath the body. It wasn't a pretty sight and the smell was twice as bad as it had been before. If she had been unhappy about the smell when they had first gotten out of the car, she would have gladly made that her perfume than smell this. The smell of decomposing flesh and whatever it was making that smell combined was too much for Sara. She was torn between throwing up in front of her boss, which she dreaded more than anything else and or continuing to hold her breath, which was already making her light headed. She needed an excuse.  
  
"Grissom, I'm gonna go help Nick, okay?" Sara said passing him the ground sample and breathing heavily. He took it and gave her a quizzical look but didn't object.  
  
Sara grabbed her camera and field kit and resisted the urge to run away from the body. She held up her flashlight and headed off in Nick's direction. She found him crouching taking a picture of something on the ground with the metal detector leaning up against his field kit. The flash went off giving her a better view of the scene. He had an orange rod used for showing the paths of bullets sticking up out of the dirt and was taking a picture of it holding a protractor against it.  
  
"What'd you find?" she asked happy to be away from the body. Nick looked up.  
  
"What are you doing here?" He asked suspiciously.  
  
"I came to help." She said shining the light in his face, "Now what did you find?" she asked again.  
  
"I'll tell you if you get that light out of my eyes," he said squinting at her.  
  
"Sorry," she mumbled turning the light on the ground again. She walked behind him and looked over his shoulder.  
  
"A bullet." Nick explained.  
  
"A bullet? What's the orange rod for?"  
  
"The angle. It was shot at a downward angle."  
  
Sara frowned. "That's what- an 80( angle?"  
  
"76( to be exact," Nick said.  
  
"But our body is way over there." She said pointing northeast. "Usually if they're shooting down, they're shooting down to finish the job. This isn't a stray shot."  
  
"Maybe the body was dragged." Nick suggested.  
  
"Why over there?" she asked.  
  
Nick sighed, "Your guess is as good as mine," This theory just didn't seem to work.  
  
They sat in silence for a moment before Sara broke it, "Maybe our killer was reloading and the gun went off."  
  
Nick shook his head at this, "Why keep a bullet in the gun if you're reloading?" He took a pair of tweezers and pulled the bullet from it's burrow in the ground. "Hand me the luminol, will you?" Nick tested it for blood but it came back negative.  
  
"So this isn't the bullet that killed him," Sara said confused, "That ends the dragging theory. What now?" she asked.  
  
"Maybe it was a warning shot." Nick suggested. "And our vic. ignored it,"  
  
"Well that would make it easier at least the killer would get GSR all over themselves." Sara said looking on the bright side. She went and crouched next to him.  
  
"I wonder what it would be like for the ostriches. I mean they've never heard a gunshot before and it would really scare them," Sara said wonderingly.  
  
"Aww come on Sara! Stay focused! We have a dead body to deal with and you're turning this into an animal rights thing," Nick said exasperated.  
  
Sara's eyes widened and she stared at him.  
  
"Oh don't be mad at me, Sara-" Nick started to say.  
  
"Wait!" she cried excitedly, "That's it!"  
  
"What's it?" Nick asked. What did Sara see that he didn't?  
  
She flashed him her gap-toothed grin, "If you were an ostrich, what would you do if you heard a gunshot?"  
  
He stared at her skeptically, "What?"  
  
"Answer the question."  
  
"This is stupid."  
  
"Answer the question!"  
  
"Fine!" he cried back, "I'd - I'd run like hell." He said finally.  
  
"Would you try to escape?" she asked still grinning.  
  
"Sure," he said, "But Sara this doesn't make any sense!"  
  
"Sure it does," she jumped up and grabbed his hand, "Come on!"  
  
"Where are we going?" he asked.  
  
She turned to him and smiled. "We're following the evidence."  
  
A/N: please review!!! 


	4. Mr Williams

A/N: ok. I've stopped writing disclaimers because if you don't have to idea by now well, I feel very sorry for you. So this goes for all future chapters: I don't own any of the characters from the show, just the plot. Enjoy chapter 4.  
  
CSI: Crime Scene Investigation  
  
Chapter 4  
  
"State your name for the record, please,"  
  
"David Williams,"  
  
"Mr. Williams, you are here of your own volition without coercion?"  
  
David Williams gave a small nod.  
  
"Yes or no,"  
  
"Y-Yes, I am," he stuttered meekly sinking further into the uncomfortable metal chair of the interrogation room. Cops seemed to terrify him It was obvious that even with O'Reilly, easily gentler than Brass, the man seemed nervous. They hadn't been able to get a hold of Brass, but O'Reilly had been available so they had settled for him. He was thankful of the fact that Brass hadn't been there. Warrick was pretty sure that the poor man would've been in pieces even after only being asked for his name.  
  
Warrick and Catherine stood nearby as O'Reilly began interviewing their suspect. Personally, Warrick didn't believe the man had anything to do with the murder, but he might remember which bag he'd stolen it from and that would lead them to the killer.  
  
Catherine stepped forward to have a crack at him. "Mr. Williams," she began, "Where do you work?" Immediately, Warrick saw what she was doing. Asking him questions in a roundabout way might get a confession out of him, but, from experience, Warrick knew this could take a while. He took a seat off to the side.  
  
The man looked at Catherine from behind his thick glasses. He looked at least 40 with thinning blonde hair and a narrow face. His nose appeared to have been broken at some point and his ears stuck out a little.  
  
"I'm a music teacher at Fillmore High," he said seeming to have found some small amount of confidence when speaking to Catherine. He eyed O'Reilly nervously as if he were a rabid pit bull ready to leap up and attack him at any given moment. O'Reilly, who of course had no intention to doing so, was perched on the stainless steel table staring back at Mr. Williams. The teacher quickly avoided his eyes.  
  
"Do you usually go into the boys locker room?" she asked.  
  
"No!" he answered a little too quickly, "I mean why would I?" he said attempting but failing to laugh as he looked around the room. Catherine noticed that he wouldn't meet her eyes. She smiled kindly.  
  
"Do you mean to tell me that if we finger printed the whole locker room, we wouldn't find a single print of yours?" she said in the same gentle tone.  
  
David Williams paused and shifted nervously in his seat, "Well, I may have gone in there once or twice, but only because there wasn't a closer bathroom." He protested still refusing to meet her eyes.  
  
"Do you recognize this gun?" she said holding up a picture of the revolver she and Warrick had been working with.  
  
"No!" he said loudly after not even a glance at the picture, "W-Why are you asking me all this?" he said jumping to his feet and regaining his stutter.  
  
"Sit down Mr. Williams." He obeyed, "We are asking you all this because this gun was used in a homicide and your fingerprints are all over it." Catherine stated.  
  
'So much for roundabout' Warrick thought to himself. Mr. Williams's reaction was quite unexpected. His face turned beat red and his eyes widened. The terrified look on his face vanished instantly. "How dare you!" he hissed, "I come down here of my own free will and you accuse me of murder!" His face was now a nice shade of crimson.  
  
"Calm down, Mr. Williams. No one is accusing you of anything," O'Reilly said calmly standing up.  
  
"Then you'd better have a hell of a good reason for dragging me down here!" he shouted at O'Reilly showing not even a trace of the fear that had been etched across his face just a few moments ago.  
  
Catherine was taken aback. Either he had been acting terrified of O'Reilly the whole time to gain sympathy or what she had said had really provoked him. She was usually really good about reading people. She glanced at Warrick who looked just as stunned as she was.  
  
"Mr. Williams, I'm going to ask you again, do you recognize this gun?" Catherine asked regaining her composure.  
  
He glared at her, eyes narrowed as if she was something unpleasant stuck to his shoe. "I told you no!" he said shouting this time meeting her eyes with a fierce stare.  
  
This failed to intimidate Catherine. She stared back calmly. "The police recovered that gun from your home, your fingerprints are all over it and you're telling me you've never seen that gun in your life?"  
  
David Williams scowled at her realizing how useless it was to continue denying. "The gun's not even mine," he said after a long pause.  
  
"Do you know the real owner?" Catherine asked.  
  
"No, I found it in a dumpster behind the school," he said trying not to appear as if he wasn't lying.  
  
O'Reilly chuckled at this. Williams turned and scowled at him, "And just what is so funny?" he asked angrily rounding on him.  
  
"What were you doing in a dumpster?" he asked.  
  
"None of your goddamn business!" he yelled blushing at his lame excuse.  
  
"Alright Mr. Williams, we know you didn't get that gun out of a dumpster. We know you stole that gun from a student's gym bag and we need to know which one. Are you going to help us by identifying the person this belongs to?" Warrick said finally stepping forward.  
  
"I didn't steal the gun," Williams sneered.  
  
Warrick sighed, "We know you stole it,"  
  
"Prove it." He hissed.  
  
"We have a video tape that has recorded you stealing from the boys locker room gym bags. Among the items you stole were: wallets, shoes, walkmans and this gun," Catherine said pushing the picture towards him.  
  
Mr. Williams paled and remained silent staring at the picture. He knew they had caught him. He seemed sincerely scared this time.  
  
"Are you going to tell us which bag it was?" Catherine asked gently.  
  
He looked up at her with a look of fury replacing the one of fear. Then, he smirked at her and spoke the four most annoying words a material witness can say at the turning point of an interrogation, "I want a lawyer."  
  
"Well that was a complete waste of time," Warrick sighed. He was frustrated that they hadn't been able to get much out of Mr. Williams. But it was the law; once a material witness requested a lawyer, all questioning had to stop immediately.  
  
"It wasn't completely unexpected at least not after he lost the stuttering act." Catherine said trying to sound reasonable. They were settled in the break room before going over the tape O'Reilly had dropped off when he came for the questioning.  
  
Warrick chuckled, "Yeah, that was out of the blue. You think it was an act?" "Of course! I'm just surprised he wasn't a drama teacher. Why? What do you think?" Catherine said.  
  
"I don't know, maybe not. Maybe you just provoked him." Warrick said taking a sip of his coffee.  
  
"Me?"  
  
"Well, you were kind of . . . blunt?" Warrick suggested shifting uncomfortably.  
  
"Blunt?" Catherine repeated shocked.  
  
"Yeah, well" Warrick wished he hadn't said anything, "I'm going to go look over the tape." He said changing the subject.  
  
"Blunt?" Catherine repeated once more.  
  
Warrick shook his head, "Forget I said anything." He turned and headed out of the break room with his coffee.  
  
Warrick yawned and rubbed his tired eyes. He had been staring at a screen for a few hours now. The anonymous student had recorded a good 9 hours worth of videotape and only about 20 minutes of it had actually recorded the sandy haired teacher prowling the locker room looking for valuables. Of course the screen was black and white, but it wasn't bad quality. It was actually pretty decent.  
  
The problem wasn't seeing Williams stealing the gun, it was identifying the bag. It appeared at about 1:00 and about 45 minutes later, Williams entered the room. Warrick watched as the guy who they'd been questioning earlier pulled out a plastic bag and immediately headed for the bench where most students kept their gym bags while they were in class. He rummaged through a few bags taking stuff like wallets and for some reason a pair of shoes, which really didn't make sense since because shoes were supposed to be on your feet for gym, before finding the one with the gun. Warrick couldn't see his expression clearly on the monitor, but he looked a little shocked. He held up the revolver and examined it. It looked like Williams had broken out in a grin now. There wasn't audio, but it looked like he had started laughing. He finished thieving in the locker room and exited.  
  
Warrick re-wound the tape to just as the boys came charging into the change room. It took him a few re-winds to find the bag in question. He couldn't see the boy carrying it. It annoyed him that the guy who either was or might lead them to their killer was being block from view. The only thing about this guy that could see was his mop of brown (at least it looked brown) hair with a baseball cap. He looked to be talking with his friend next to him with his face turned away from them. Everyway he turned, the camera couldn't get a clear shot of his face. So after about half an hour of pouring over the screen looking unsuccessfully for a decent shot of the kid, Warrick was about ready to give up. Frustrated, he hit the pause button and headed for the break room to look for Catherine.  
  
He found her there pouring over a file on the table. A fresh pot of coffee went unnoticed while she was immersed in her work.  
  
"Hey," he greeted her.  
  
"What can you tell me about our tape?" Catherine asked.  
  
"Well, Williams is guilty. No mistaking that. The kid who put up the camera is a genius, but he could've chosen a better location." Warrick said filling her in vaguely.  
  
Catherine raised an eyebrow, "Alright, so did you see Williams pull the gun from the bag?"  
  
Warrick nodded, "I even saw the bag being brought in, but the guy who owns it I can't see his face."  
  
"Alright, I think I have a guess as to who this kid might be," Catherine said.  
  
"Care to share that theory?"  
  
"Alright, our murder suspect, Simon Colton, is- I mean was employed by our victim. Lets say, Colton shoots his boss for whatever reason and needs to get rid of the gun. He passes it off to his son and-"  
  
"The son carries it around in his gym bag? I don't think so," Warrick said.  
  
"Do you know what I think?" Catherine said resting her arm on the table.  
  
"What?"  
  
"There is something definitely wrong," She said packing up the file and preparing to leave, "And right now, we need to pay a visit to that school." She said clutching the file in her arm as she walked from the room.  
  
A/N: please review!!! I do want opinions!! 


	5. Theories

A/N: Hey. I haven't written in a while cause school started. I'm only writing this story on the weekends so I won't post as often. Enjoy the next chapter.  
  
CSI: Crime Scene Investigation  
  
Chapter 5  
  
Grissom finished examining the body of Arthur Corby. It certainly hadn't been a wonderful sight. The ostriches had apparently taken notice to the body of their former owner and hadn't failed to inform him of their opinion of him. "Nick may have been right about the ostriches killing him, or at least finishing him off." He thought. Nick had said he had found a bullet so that may have been what had actually killed him. Grissom would need a coroner's examination to find cause of death. The body had been severely- for lack of a better word- pecked. Flesh had been ripped from the torso and arms. The legs which had been covered up by thick jeans seemed untouched, though the absence of dirt smears on the back of his legs and shirt suggested that he hadn't been dragged. The face had been possibly the worst. The eyes had been pecked out and the rest of the face hadn't faired so well either.  
  
Grissom signaled for the paramedics to take him back to Las Vegas for an autopsy. As they packaged him in one of their blue body bags and hauled him into the ambulance, Grissom felt safe enough to take a breath. The smell of the processing plant still hung in the air but it was easily much better than the smell of decomposing flesh. Grissom couldn't blame Sara for having taken off. He had guessed that was why she had left. The ostriches hadn't been to only factor in Arthur Corby's unique scent; the fact that he had been dead for almost 3 days didn't hurt.  
  
"Here's you list and FYI, some of the names on the list haven't been working here for years," Brass said handing the sheet he was holding to Grissom.  
  
He raised an eyebrow. Brass shrugged and turned his attention to his vibrating pager. He flipped out his cell, dialed a number and walked off to take the call.  
  
Grissom put the sheet in his field kit, closed it up and walked off to find Nick and Sara.  
  
Meanwhile, Sara was dragging Nick across the paddock to the wooden fence that surrounded the paddock. She wanted to head towards the ostriches but since she knew that the ostriches had been corralled by some of the handlers, she couldn't determine where they had been before they had showed up. So she figured if she ran along the fence, she would find what she was looking for eventually.  
  
"Alright, we'll split up. You go left, I'll go right. Page me if you find anything, okay?" Sara said turning to face a rather stunned Nick.  
  
"What am I looking for?" he said wondering if Sara had completely lost her mind.  
  
"Anything the vic. was doing before he was shot." Sara replied.  
  
"And this relates to ostriches escaping how?" Nick asked still fairly confused.  
  
"I'll explain later just start looking, okay?" Sara said turning away from him and heading right shining her flashlight along the fence.  
  
"No, I'm coming with you," Nick said following her.  
  
Sara stopped and turned to face him again. She sighed, "This will go faster if we split up,"  
  
"No it won't. You know what you're looking for and I don't. I could miss it and I wouldn't even know it!" Nick pointed out.  
  
"Just look for a pitch fork or a break in the fence or-or anything!" she said exasperated.  
  
"No, I'm coming with you. Besides, I'm curious what this has to do with me being an ostrich," Nick remarked on her earlier question on what he would do if he was an ostrich.  
  
Sara laughed, "I didn't mean it like that!"  
  
"Then what did you mean?" Nick asked.  
  
"Alright," Sara sighed and began her theory as they began walking to the right along the fence. She didn't notice that Nick had gotten his way with their argument, "I think that the person who shot him works on the ranch-"  
  
"Because. . . ?"  
  
"Because look around you!" She said, "We're in the middle of the desert, miles from the nearest highway! The other person who works here would've noticed a car in the parking lot."  
  
"Well, in that case if, our killer wasn't a worker, we could be looking for another body," Nick stated calmly.  
  
Sara stared at him, "I never thought of that," she said going off into deep thought.  
  
"You were saying?" Nick reminded her of his presence.  
  
"Oh, right. Umm. . . where was I?" Sara said awakened from her thoughts.  
  
"You think the person works on the ranch," Nick reminded her.  
  
"Right, the person works on the ranch and goes out from the barn to have a word with our vic. Our vic. sees his co-worker and goes to meet him from whatever he's been doing. They get into an argument and the killer draws the gun. The vic. tries to wrestle the gun out of the guy's hands and it goes off aimed at ground, hence the steep angle. It's fired a few more times before the killer shoots him point blank. Now the gunshots have alerted the ostriches and they take off trying to get away. They manage to break down the fence and a few of them escape. The killer who doesn't want to get blamed for the ostriches escape goes to either calm them down or patch up the fence.Maybe he left something behind."  
  
"Okay, sounds plausible, but why not hide the body?" Nick asked.  
  
"I don't know. It's just a theory." She said slightly annoyed that he had found a loophole in her idea.  
  
They lapsed into silence. It was another 10 minutes before thy found what they had been looking for. Sara, who was in front of Nick, spotted it first.  
  
"Nick? I think you'd better come take a look at this." Sara called to him as she reached in her pack and pulled out her camera. She had found the gap in the fence.  
  
"Wow, I guess you were right," Nick breathed taking out his own camera to snap a few photos of the gap. The ostriches had managed to make a 5 foot break in the feeble wooden fence in their panic to get out. Ostrich prints littered the ground so finding human foot prints would've been nearly impossible. There were 3 dead ostriches lying around. 2 had been trampled to death while 1 had gotten his head caught trying to escape. There were planks scattered nearby Someone had been trying to patch this up.  
  
Sara ignored the ostriches and the gap and headed towards the planks of wood that lay nearby. Nick headed to the gap. She snapped a few photos and shone her flash light around it. She found a dusty ball cap and bagged it. Perhaps one of the barn crew would recognize it. Nails and a hammer lay scattered around the area. Sara bagged these too. Maybe the hammer was a murder weapon. Someone had to have run back to the barn to grab these. They would need to ask the barn staff just how many ostriches had gone missing.  
  
Something was wrong at their crime scene and Sara wasn't sure what. Nick was right. Why hadn't the killer hidden the body? Was he framing someone? How come no one had noticed this gap in the fence? There were too many unanswered questions.  
  
Sara wasn't the only one with unanswered questions. Nick was dealing with the fence. There was something wrong though. The part where the fence had been broken looked to have been weathered. Meaning it had been broken longer than the estimated time of death. He would have to take it back to the lab to be sure, but he was almost positive that the vic. was still breathing when the fence had broken.  
  
Turning away from the fence, he found someone's wallet on the ground. He opened it up. It held a twenty and a five. The only problem was, it was Arthur Corby's wallet. Nick frowned. Was this their primary crime scene? Had the killer been trying to dispose of the body afterall? And if so, what had interrupted him. He called Sara over. She didn't know what to make of it either. Then it struck him.  
  
"What if it wasn't the killer that was trying to repair the fence? What if it was the vic?" Nick speculated.  
  
"The vic.'s dead, Nick. How can he repair the fence?" she asked.  
  
"I mean before he died."  
  
"Then how was the fence broken? And how did he end up all the way over there?" she asked pointing in the direction of the body.  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"Maybe the killer took the vic's wallet and went to repair the ostrich fence." Sara said adding onto her theory.  
  
"Then why is there a recipt for wood planks from Home Depot in the vic's wallet?" Nick asked smugly as he pulled a recipt out of the wallet. Sara grabbed it and read it over.  
  
"It's not a competition, Nick." Sara said defensively.  
  
"Why do you say that?" he asked.  
  
You're getting too competitive for your own good." She replied.  
  
A/N: Humour me and review, please!!!! 


	6. High School

A/N: An anonymous reviewer caught a mistake I made at the end of the chapter 6 so I changed the ending a bit. And I'll post a new chapter on Saturday or Sunday. Neway, Enjoy!  
  
CSI: Crime Scene Investigation Chapter 6  
  
The small (in Catherine's opinion) 2-storey building of Filmore High School stood on the outskirts of Las Vegas in a rough neighbourhood. This wasn't near Lindsay's school (thankfully); they lived too far north for her to come here in grade 9. Warrick was already walking up the front steps and Catherine followed behind him.  
  
They introduced themselves to the secretary. She paged the principal and he came down to greet them.  
  
"I'm Mr. Stafford." The man said, "I'm principal of Filmore High. What can I do for you?"  
  
This was a change from the stuttering split personality of Mr. Williams. He seemed confident and barely nervous at all. Very professional. "I'm Catherine Willows. This is Warrick Brown. We're from the crime lab." She paused unsure of how to put this, "One of your students turned in a tape recording one of your teachers stealing from your boy's change room."  
  
"Yes. The police informed me and we've fired Mr. Williams. Have you come to return the student's possessions?" He asked.  
  
"Yes, but we need to see all the boys who claim to have had things stolen."  
  
"May I ask why?"  
  
Catherine explained what they had so far and Mr. Stafford complied with her request. They waited as the call over the P.A. system went out for all boy who had had items stolen to come retrieve them at the front office and, at Catherine's request, to have their gym bags with them when they came down. Within 15 minutes, about 45 boys ranging from about 34 grade nines to 5 grade twelves had assembled themselves in the front hall gym bags in hand. Warrick was a little shocked that one teacher could victimize this many students. He must've had a lot of spare time.  
  
Catherine started with the grade 10s and up while Warrick took the grade 9s. He asked them to open their bags while he sprayed the inside, used a gauze pad to wipe up any GSR and sprayed the pad with a different chemical. Few didn't give him any trouble or even ask what he was doing, but most did ask or whined about wanting to get their stuff back. Most people hadn't bothered to empty their bags and he found various things ranging from apple cores to gym socks that you could tell hadn't been washed from 3 feet away. All in all, it wasn't a pleasant experience for Warrick. He heard Catherine trying to explain to a grade 10 that what they were doing was perfectly legal.  
  
Warrick asked a short, boy with messy dark brown hair to open his bag. He went through his usual routine, but this time when he sprayed the gauze pad, it turned a fluorescent blue. He stared at the kid. He stared back with a confused expression.  
  
"Cath!" he called to her without taking his eyes off the kid. "I got something."  
  
He took the bag from the boy ignoring his protests. They continued testing the rest of the bags, but found nothing. They returned the belongings to the boys and sent all of them, with exception to the dark haired boy, back to class.  
  
"What's you name?" Catherine asked him.  
  
"Todd Baldwin. What did you do to my bag?" he asked with a hint of anger in his voice.  
  
"We tested it for gunshot residue. Can you tell us why you had a gun in your bag?" Warrick asked.  
  
He was silent.  
  
"I think we need to give him a ride to the station." Warrick said to Catherine.  
  
"No!" he blurted out.  
  
"I'm afraid we have to." Warrick explained.  
  
"Mr. Stafford," Catherine said catching the principal's attention." We need to take Todd Baldwin down to the station for questioning. Could you contact his parents and ask for their consent in this?"  
  
"Of course Ms. Willows." He said eyeing Todd suspiciously.  
  
*=*=*=*=*=*=*  
  
An hour and a half later, they had finally persuaded Mrs. Baldwin to let them have an interview with her and her son. They had also rounded up Brass who had gotten back from working on Grissom's case the night before. (A/N: Yes, I'm jumping ahead here, but I'll try and get the other case caught up by the next chapter.) So soon they were back in the interrogation room with 2 new material witnesses.  
  
"Todd, have you ever seen this gun?" Catherine began addressing Todd gently as she showed him the same picture they'd shown Mr. Williams. She only hoped he would be more cooperative. Mrs. Baldwin, or Liz, wore a small frown, as her eyes never left Catherine. She had dark brown, shoulder length hair much like her son's and a pale face. Her arms were crossed over her chest and if she hadn't been wearing casual clothes, Catherine would've mistaken her for a lawyer.  
  
He took a while to answer, "Yes." His mother did not seem too happy about this.  
  
"Who does it belong to?" Catherine asked.  
  
"I don't know." He said in the same tone.  
  
"Does it belong to your father?" she asked.  
  
"No."  
  
Todd, we found gunshot residue in your bag. We have a tape showing someone- " she didn't want to say Mr. Williams "-taking this from your bag. Where did you get the gun?" Liz was shocked but remained silent.  
  
"I found it." He said simply.  
  
Catherine knew he was hiding something. "Where?"  
  
"I don't remember."  
  
"You don't remember where you found a gun? That's a pretty important detail to forget." Brass said cutting in.  
  
"Don't you talk to him that way!" he mother cried angrily as she stood up speaking for the first time. "We came down here of our own free will to help you with your investigation, not to be criticized about his memory!" she said defensively.  
  
"Mom!" Todd warned. He turned back to Catherine, "I just don't remember, okay?" he said calmly.  
  
"Did you ever fire the gun?" Catherine asked changing their question.  
  
"No!"  
  
"Why did you take it to school?" She asked.  
  
"Yes, Todd, why did you?" Liz repeated.  
  
"A couple of the guys didn't believe that I had one, so I took it to school to show them." He said truthfully.  
  
'Finally!' Catherine thought to herself. 'Some kind of truth!' He was beginning to be a lot like Williams except not as oblivious as to the fact that they'd caught him.  
  
"Do you know a Mr. Simon Colton?" she asked him.  
  
"Yes, unfortunately." he said darkly. His attitude towards the interview had changed somewhat, "He's the asshole who ran out on me and mom when I was 6."  
  
His mother gave a small gasp, "Todd! Watch your language!" He glared at her.  
  
"Your father?" Catherine asked.  
  
"Biologically."  
  
"Catherine, a word?" Warrick said poking his head in the interview room.  
  
She nodded and followed him out.  
  
"What is it?" she asked.  
  
"AFIS came back on the partial at the tip of the revolver."  
  
"And? Is it Todd Baldwin?"  
  
"No. It's some kid named Alex Rivers." Warrick said.  
  
"Alex Rivers?" She repeated.  
  
"Yes. Has he come up in your interview yet?"  
  
"No. Todd hasn't mentioned him."  
  
They re-entered the interview room. And Catherine reclaimed her place asking Todd questions.  
  
"Todd, do you know Alex Rivers?" she asked.  
  
He nodded. "He's my best friend. We've known each other since grade 4. Why? What has he got to do with this?"  
  
"Well, Alex's fingerprint was found on the gun. Did you ever let him hold it?"  
  
"No, Alex never knew I had the gun. Why would he touch it anyway?" he asked.  
  
"That's what we're trying to figure out. Where did you really get the gun?" she asked.  
  
"My dad gave it to me. He said I should be protected at school." He answered changing his story about his friends wanting to see it.  
  
To say Liz flipped out at this would be an understatement. She nearly exploded at this. "Protected at school?! You don't give kids guns to protect themselves at school! That's ridiculous!"  
  
"Mom! I'm not a kid!" he shouted at her, but she didn't seem to hear him. She continued to shriek and get louder. Catherine only caught words like 'son of a bitch' and 'idiotic asshole' as Brass attempted to calm her down. Catherine guessed that Todd wasn't really close to either of his parents.  
  
Todd smirked at this, "Mom! Watch your language!" he said imitating what his mother had said. She rounded on him.  
  
"Don't be a smart ass Todd!" she screamed at him, "It's your fault we're down here in the first place!"  
  
"I thought it was dad's."  
  
Catherine winced at this as his mother exploded at him. Did this kid have any control over what he said? Or was he just plain stupid. Didn't he know never to draw attention to himself when a mother was angry about something? (A/N: Yes, I know this from personal experience)  
  
But she thought Liz had a point. No father would let his son have a gun for protection at school. At least no well meaning one. No, this father was trying to get rid of the evidence for when the police showed up. They would need a talk with Simon Colton.  
  
And where did Alex Rivers fit into all this? There were too many unanswered questions.  
  
A/N: PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW!!! 


	7. Autopsy

A/N: I may post another chapter on this case sometime during the week because not much happens in this one. I'm starting on it today and if I finish I will post. I found out I love writing autopsies. It's so easy to write about blood, guts and gore but theres not too much in this one. I had to cut out most of it cuz I realized I kinda went overboard when I was editing. Enjoy the less gorey (Why isn't that a word?) version!  
  
CSI: Crime Scene Investigation  
  
Chapter 7  
  
Nick hurried through the double doors to the Las Vegas Crime Lab. He was late having slept for more than 4 hours last night, which was a first this week. They had spent almost all of last night processing that whole paddock only to find numerous ostrich feathers and millions of ostrich prints ruining any chance of finding human ones. The strange part of the night had been when he had gone back to test the area around the stray bullet for GSR, he had found surprisingly little. He headed for the locker room to drop off his bag when he ran into Sara.  
  
"Hi, Nick." She said distractedly scanning through a file.  
  
"Hi Sara." He replied, "What's going on?" he asked.  
  
"You were late again, huh?" she said looking up at him with an amused smile. He couldn't remember any time that she had been late.  
  
"Well, yeah," he admitted sheepishly. He was hoping Grissom wouldn't notice that he was late, "I kind of overslept. Where's Grissom?"  
  
"He's in the autopsy room. He wants you to join him." She said seeming to read his thoughts. She was secretly thankful Grissom had wanted Nick and not her.  
  
"And what are you doing?" he asked.  
  
"GSR on the clothes." She said holding up a paper bag neatly labeled at the top.  
  
"Have fun." He said as they went in their separate directions.  
  
"You too." She called after him.  
  
After finishing in the locker room, Nick pushed open the door to the autopsy room and was immediately hit with the stench of decomposing flesh. He started to breathe through his mouth. Grissom and Doc. Robbins were on opposite sides of their corpse. To Nick, it looked like one big scab on the neck and arms but from the neck down, the part that had been protected by clothing, he had fewer cuts and bruises.  
  
Grissom looked up from talking to Doc. Robbins. "You're here." He said plainly. He nodded and headed over to the examination table.  
  
"What'd I miss?" he asked trying to direct attention away from himself.  
  
"Well, Your vic. was severely, for lack of a better word, pecked." Doc. Robbins said.  
  
"Post mortem?" Nick asked.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"So, what killed him?"  
  
"Gunshot wound to the upper aorta. " Doc said gesturing to the small hole above his heart. He reached for a pair of tweezers and pulled out the bullet from the body, "The strange part is, it looks like his attacker was shorter than him."  
  
"Shorter?" Nick asked.  
  
"Yes. I'm not sure how short. That's your job, but it enter his body at maybe a 75 degree angle."  
  
"75?" Nick repeated remembering the bullet he had found at the crime scene with the 76 degree angle. There was something weird about this case.  
  
"He was probably shot while lying down, Nick." Grissom said seeing the confused look on his face.  
  
"No, it's just I found a stray bullet with a 76 degree angle. There wasn't any GSR though. He said.  
  
Grissom frowned. "No GSR? How's that possible at an angle like that?"  
  
Nick shrugged and Doc. Robbins continued to fill him in.  
  
"I recovered 2 more bullets. One entered the right shoulder, missed his subclavian by an inch and shattered his clavicle. It's lodged in there pretty well. I get it to you when I pull it out. The other one," he said moving the covering sheet and pointing to the corpse's upper thigh, "Exploded the femor and exited below the knee."  
  
"Hold on." Grissom said interrupting the coroner, "Wouldn't the fatal shot be a through and through too?"  
  
Doc. Robbins paused to think this over, "I guess you're right. If he was shot lying down, it should be." He frowned, "What does it mean then?"  
  
"Maybe he was shot standing up." Nick suggested.  
  
"There's no way that could have happened." The coroner said shaking his head.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"If your femur and your clavicle were shattered, would you be standing?" he asked.  
  
"What if they were shot after the one to the aorta?" Nick asked.  
  
"No, death would've been instant. Besides, his clothes were covered in blood near the wounds. He took 2 shots before the last one above his heart killed him." Doc. Robbins said.  
  
"Do we have a certain time of death?" Grissom asked. "2 to 3 days. I can't narrow it down anymore than that without a closer examination." He said. "Ill keep you posted." He said as he hobbled towards the ex-rays he had been going over before Grissom had come in.  
  
Grissom and Nick left the autopsy room and were headed to ballistics. Grissom sent Nick to see what Sara had found so far. He entered the room and told Sara what he and Grissom had found so far. She asked him to run a sample she had found on the vic.'s boot down to Trace while she finished with the GSR.   
  
Nick walked through the newly repaired walls of the Trace and DNA Lab. After the lab had been blown up and repaired a few months ago, walking in the new re-designed hall always had a strange, unfamiliar look to it. Not that the construction workers hadn't done a good job repairing it; it was just different.  
  
He rounded the corner into Greg's area. The sandy-haired lab tech was listening to a pair of head phones blasting loud enough that Nick was sure Greg's eardrums would break any second. He was facing away from Nick as he sang along to some rock song, but it didn't sound like he knew the words very well. He was completely oblivious that Nick had come in.  
  
"Hey!" Nick said loudly. Greg didn't hear him. "Hey!" he shouted. Greg still didn't hear him, so Nick pulled the cord connecting his earphones to his walkman.  
  
"Hey! What'd you do that for?" he asked as he turned around to face him.  
  
"I need you to process the sample Sara found at the ostrich farm." He said holding up a small, clear plastic bag.  
  
"An ostrich farm?"  
  
"Pete Sander's Ostrich Farm. Any relation?" Nick teased.  
  
"Ha Ha Ha." Greg said sarcastically. Nick turned to leave, but Greg called after him.  
  
"It may take a while for me to get the results."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Hey, I'm backed up! I have a lot of work to do!" he said defensively.  
  
"Yes," Nick said dryly eyeing the walkman, "I see you're very busy."  
  
"Well . . ." he said following Nick's gaze, "Grissom won't let me play it on my stereo anymore." He explained with a half grin.  
  
He chuckled at this, "Well, page me when you finish." He said turning around again and heading to ballistics.  
  
A/N: PLEASE REVIEW! 


	8. Impossible

A/n: hey. I'm sick, tired and too sleepy to edit this properly. If I messed up, let me know. And don't forget to review! GSR means gun shot residue.  
  
CSI: Crime Scene Investigation  
  
Chapter 8  
  
"Grissom!" Nick called out to him. He stopped and turned to face Nick, "Did you find who the gun was registered to?" he asked.  
  
"Our vic, Arthur Corby. There were 2 rounds left in the 6 shot revolver. But the bullet we recovered from the body aren't from the gun." He said bringing Nick up to speed.  
  
"You mean we're looking for another gun?" Nick asked. Grissom nodded.  
  
"I'm going to go talk with a few employees." He said.  
  
"Great. I'll call Brass." Nick said.  
  
"No, for 2 reasons. One; he's working with Catherine and Warrick and two; I need you to skewer a foam dummy."  
  
"You want me to what?"  
  
*=*=*=*=*=*=*  
  
An hour and a half later, after carefully measuring and plotting the marks, double-checking the angles and finally sticking orange rods in the foam dummy, Nick sat back to admire his handiwork. Compared to what he'd been through in the past, this was very strange. The angles didn't quite seem to match. The shoulder shot had entered his shoulder at a downward angle. How this was possible, Nick had no idea. The leg shot seemed hardy normal either. He had skewered into the thigh and out the back of the knee. Unless the attacker was extremely close, that shot was impossible. Not to mention the shot above the heart. At an upward 72.5 degree angle, it wasn't something you saw everyday. He wondered if it was even possible even with the victim was lying down. He would have to test this.  
  
Just then, Sara walked in. "Have you seen Grissom?" she asked.  
  
"He went to talk with a few of the employees."  
  
"And you? Is that our vic?" She asked pointing to the skewered dummy.  
  
"No, that's a foam dummy." He deadpanned, "What did you find?"  
  
"Well, the pants, had almost no GSR on them. His shirt however, " she paused to show him the picture she'd taken, "the entire right sleeve was covered in it."  
  
"So he shot a gun, we could've proved that by going to AFIS." Nick said.  
  
"Could we have proved that whoever killed him was standing at least 10 feet away?" she asked handing him the diagram. He stared at her.  
  
"Sara, that's impossible." He said but looked over the picture and saw that she was right. The rest of the shirt had almost no fluorescent blue liquid on it. This made no sense. Sara was over examining the dummy.  
  
"Nick, are you sure these are right?" she asked eyeing the orange stakes.  
  
"I'm positive. I just spent an hour and a half putting that together." Nick said checking the picture again.  
  
"Are you sure?" she asked.  
  
"I checked the coroner's report 6 times, Sara." He said. This whole case made no sense. They needed Grissom's opinion.  
  
*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*  
  
Grissom had interviewed at least ten people so far and each one had given the same story. Each one had identified the ball cap Sara and Nick had found at the crime scene as Arthur Corby's or, as they called him, 'Arty'. The employees generally thought he was okay, but a few didn't like him so much. Almost no one they interviewed had worked with him in the past week with the exception of Jake Shaw, Darryl and James Morton (brothers), Lloyd Cornett, Randy Pitrowski and Jared Thompson.  
  
The 2nd person they had interviewed hadn't seemed to like him so much. "So he finally died, huh? Took him long enough." Lloyd grumbled. Lloyd Cornett, a 34-year-old full time worker was the odd one out. Jake and the rest of the employees were between the ages of 19 and 24. He claimed to be the only other person who came in full time.  
  
"He didn't die." Grissom said, "He was murdered."  
  
Lloyd Cornett paled as he realized what situation he had just put himself in, "Look I didn't mean it. He was an okay guy, he just kept showing the rest of us up. Even the manager! He came in on weekends, holidays, I mean no one can possibly be that dedicated. I swear, I haven't seen him in 4 days. I didn't even know he was dead until now! I didn't kill him if that's what you're thinking."  
  
Grissom mentally added him to the list of suspects with motives though he didn't believe anyone was stupid enough to say they had held a grudge against a guy they had murdered. The next man they interviewed was a little bit younger. Jake Shaw seemed a bit tired, or maybe just had a lost expression on his face. He had stated that he had last seen him 4 days ago.  
  
"He was kind of the unofficial leader. Exretemely dedicated. He came in every single day. The rest of us came in once, maybe twice a week if we needed extra pay. Most of us are part-time, you know, have jobs in the city and come out one day a week." Jake explained. He had made it clear that he thought Arthur Corby was a decent guy.  
  
"Who was the official leader?"  
  
"Mr. Hailsmith, but he only came out once a month to check on us." Jake said monotone.  
  
"Do you have a number where we could get in touch with Mr. Hailsmith?" Grissom asked.  
  
Jake shook his head. The rest didn't seem to know how to contact him either. It seemed to Grissom that the only one who would've known how to contact him was Arthur Corby. That didn't help them much.  
  
"What happened the day you last saw Arthur Corby?" Grissom asked.  
  
"I'm not really sure. I left at 6 on Monday. Everyone else had taken off and it was just me and Arty. I usually stay till 6:30 but he told me to take off early." He said.  
  
"Anything unusual about him?"  
  
"No, he was normal." Jake said.  
  
"Alright, thank you Mr. Shaw. We'll be in touch." Grissom said feeling like he was getting nowhere.  
  
"Could you let me know if you find anything?" he requested.  
  
Grissom nodded as Jake was escorted from the room. He sighed. That had been almost a complete waste of time. He didn't believe anyone of those people had killed him, but at the moment, they had no other leads or suspects. He needed to check in on what Nick and Sara had found.  
  
A/n: PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW!!!!!!!! 


	9. Lefty

A/n: its been a while, but I finally finished editing. I would've edited sooner but. . . . well, im lazy.  
  
CSI: Crime Scene Investigation Chapter 9  
  
Brass had had a long night. After failing to get a hold of Alex Rivers, he had concerned himself with setting up an interview with a very distraught Liz Baldwin. She had insisted on a lawyer. This slowed down their investigation a little, but Brass wasn't impatient. Since it was a cold case, their crime scene had already lost any promise of new evidence. There was no rush.  
  
Now, 3 and a half hours later, Mrs. Baldwin, her lawyer, Brass and Warrick were assembled in the interrogation room. Mrs. Baldwin fidgeted nervously as they began. She had calmed down since her big blow up in their last interview.  
  
"Tell me about your husband." Brass said calmly. Unlike Liz and her lawyer, he and Warrick had not yet taken a seat, but then again, Brass rarely did. He found it slightly less intimidating to be on level with his suspects than it was to be standing.  
  
"You mean my ex-husband?" she corrected.  
  
"You divorced?" Brass asked.  
  
"Almost 8 years ago. But I remarried." She added quickly making it clear she wanted no connection with him.  
  
"Do you share custody?" Brass asked not really caring about her last statement.  
  
"No, I got full custody. He sends support payments but that's it." She said.  
  
"Do you see him often? Does he visit or anything?"  
  
"I don't see how this matters." She said confused.  
  
"It's okay. You can answer their question," her lawyer told her quietly.  
  
"Fine, I don't really see him. He came around once. I can't remember the day, maybe sometime last winter, but he showed up on our doorstep." She said.  
  
"Does he normally do that? Show up uninvited?" Brass asked.  
  
"No, not usually. He used to pick Todd up from school and they'd spend a few hours together, but that stopped a few years ago." She said.  
  
"Do you know why?"  
  
"No. And Todd was really upset about it. Simon just stopped showing up and I'd get a call around 4 saying that he needed a ride." She said her voice starting to shake.  
  
Her lawyer made an attempt to comfort her and once she had regained composure, they continued. Brass didn't know what had brought that on, but he wondered if it was something that could help them.  
  
"Can you think of anything as to why he stopped spending time with his son? Job concerns? A girlfriend? Anything?" Brass coaxed.  
  
"No. As far as I know he's had the same job forever. No! Wait I think he got a new one at some computer tech or office supplies job maybe a year and a half ago. But that was after he stopped picking Todd up." She said.  
  
"He switched jobs?" Brass asked.  
  
"Actually, I think he was fired for some reason. I don't know. Maybe Kyle would. They did work together for a while." She offered.  
  
"Kyle?" Bras asked raising an eyebrow.  
  
"My husband." She clarified.  
  
"They used to work together?" Brass asked surprised by this new and possibly useful information.  
  
"They were best friends until Simon and I divorced and I started dating Kyle." She said looking slightly guilty.  
  
"They stopped being friends because Kyle was dating you?" Brass repeated.  
  
"Maybe it was a little soon," she admitted.  
  
"And what did Todd think of this?" Brass asked.  
  
"He was opposed to it at first, but he's adapted. He loves Kyle now, though I hate to admit it, possibly more than his real dad." She said not sounding at all sorry about this.  
  
Brass gave a small snort. It was obvious from Todd's answer that he loved just about everyone more than his real father. "Do you remember when his boss was killed 2 years ago? I think we interviewed you."  
  
"Yes, I can't remember, did they ever find the killer?" but before Brass could respond, she realized what he was asking, "No! You don't think Simon- no! He would never!" she cried her voice getting higher.  
  
"I'm not thinking anything yet. Did Kyle and Simon know Francis McKinney?" Brass asked not wanting to accuse anyone of anything.  
  
"Well of course they knew him! He was their boss!" she cried, "If you think Simon had anything to do with that-"  
  
"Calm down Mrs. Baldwin. Detective Brass isn't accusing him of anything." Her lawyer said trying to control her client.  
  
"Simon would never hurt anyone! He's irresponsible, but he would never hurt anyone on purpose!"  
  
"Mrs. Baldwin, we know that. We aren't accusing him of anything. We just want any information you might know regarding him." Brass said calmly.  
  
Warrick had been watching all this in silence. It seemed that Mrs. Baldwin was the only one in hysterics, but didn't seem to be listening to a word Brass had been saying. Whoever Simon Colton was, they needed to speak with him. Warrick also made a note to ask about Kyle Baldwin. He wondered if she hadn't kept her maiden name after her divorce. He decided to ask.  
  
"Well, I told you everything! I don't see anything there is left to tell." She said her voice becoming squeaky again.  
  
"The day of the murder, was there anything unusual you might've noticed when your husband came home?" Brass questioned.  
  
"Oh! So now you think Kyle murdered him? What is this? I can assure you neither one of them had anything to do with this." She said confidently  
  
"We're just investigating all possibilities." Brass assured her.  
  
"Well you could've done that 2 years ago instead of disrupting innocent people's lives with these ridiculous accusations!" She snapped standing up.  
  
Brass rose to the challenge, "2 years ago, we didn't have the murder weapon that just happens to belong to your ex." He said sharply.  
  
Liz Baldwin was speechless. Her eyes were wide with shock. Her lawyer tapped her on the arm and told her to sit back down. She and Liz exchanged a few words.  
  
"Are we finished yet?" she asked shaken.  
  
"Just one question," Brass said, "Did you take your husband's last name when you got married?"  
  
"Yes, I did, what does that have to do with anything?" She asked quietly.  
  
"Okay. We're done for now, but we'll need to speak with your husband for sure." Brass said ignoring her question rudely.  
  
"Whatever we can do to help." She said half-heartedly. She stood and followed her lawyer out sullenly. She took one last look back towards Brass. Warrick couldn't place the expression on her face; she seemed more worried than afraid.  
  
"So, what do you think?" Brass asked after their clients had left.  
  
"I don't know man. She doesn't look guilty." Warrick admitted.  
  
"I've seen better actors."  
  
"You think she is?" Warrick asked.  
  
"She knows more than she's saying." Brass said grabbing his jacket and preparing to leave.  
  
"Basing this on anything?"  
  
Brass shrugged and headed left down the hall while Warrick turned right to find Catherine looking for him.  
  
"I found something interesting you might want to take a look at." She said. She had been going over the previously collected evidence again.  
  
"So did I and I think we have a few more suspects." He said bringing her up to speed. He explained everything.  
  
"I'll check the employees records. It's in the file. Our suspect, Simon Colton, is on there." She opened it to show him, "Filed 3 complaints prior to the murder and quit 6 months after."  
  
"Sounds a little obvious don't you think?" Warrick asked.  
  
"Maybe. But we need more than just an assumption to put this guy away. I want to get the coroner's report." Catherine said.  
  
"Catherine, he was shot. It's pretty straight forward."  
  
"And attacked with an unidentified weapon. We find the weapon, we find our killer." She reminded him, "And you are going to look for the records."  
  
"I am?" he said not sounding surprised. It wasn't uncommon for Catherine to take the lead.  
  
"You are. I'm going to work on our mystery weapon." She said smiling as she abandoned Warrick.  
  
*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*  
  
Catherine slit the manila envelope open and poured its contents onto the lit up table. She separated each picture from the others. Catherine looked at the photos taken of his shirt looking for any void as she examined the blood spatter. No hand prints, nothing unusual about it. Frustrated, she moved on to the pictures of the body.  
  
There were quite of few pictures of the same middle-aged man with ghostly white skin. He had a wide gash starting at his right temple and ending just below his right cheekbone, a few more slashes across his face, a few around his neck and defensive wounds on his wrists and palms. He looked to have a black eye too. Nothing too unusual about the markings, though the unidentified weapon didn't look like a knife, or if it was, a blunt one.  
  
She held up one photo on his face searching for anything they might've missed. She noticed some post-mortem bruising around his mouth maybe from being gagged or someone's hand covering his mouth. He also had what looked like a bruise on his unscarred left temple. She'd seen this before; this was a muzzle print from a gun.  
  
Catherine lowered her magnifying glass. Their killer was left-handed! You couldn't cover someone's mouth like that and hold a gun to the right side of their head too, unless you held them far away from your body, which wasn't a natural or practical position.  
  
Well, that narrowed the field a bit. Now, she had to check if any of their suspects were left-handed. Of course that wasn't enough to convict him or her and barely enough to hold anyone, but it was a start.  
  
A/N: REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW!!!!!! 


	10. Role Playing

A/n: Thanks to those who reviewed. Enjoy the next chapter.  
  
CSI: Crime Scene Investigation Chapter 10  
  
Grissom continued down the hall towards Greg's area hoping to pick up whatever Sara found on their vic. He rounded the corner but couldn't find the lab tech. He was going to try the break room when the printer started humming. He waited for it to finish printing before retrieving the paper. He looked it over as he headed towards the break room.  
  
Not only did he find Greg there, he caught up with the other 2 CSIs on his team.  
  
"What are you doing?" he asked hoping they'd found something.  
  
"Waiting for you actually." Sara said, "We found something really weird."  
  
*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*  
  
Nick and Sara showed Grissom their contradicting evidence. He frowned as he looked at the GSR pictures and the coroner's report. They didn't seem to match. He decided to play it out.  
  
"Sara, lie down on the floor." He said.  
  
"What? Oh no! I'm not going to role play this time!" Sara protested.  
  
"But-"  
  
"No!" she said loudly.  
  
"We need to find this killer and unless we can see how it played out, we can't catch him." Grissom pointed out. Nick started to chuckle, which only resulted in a venomous glare from Sara.  
  
"Why can't Nick do it?" She asked.  
  
"He's too tall. You're closer to Arthur Corby's size." Grissom pointed out. Just then, Greg walked in.  
  
"Ahh, role playing!" he said excitedly a grin etched across his face. He had apparently been eavesdropping.  
  
"Greg, get back to work." Grissom ordered.  
  
"And miss this? Never!" Greg said stubbornly.  
  
"Greg!"  
  
"You could make him take my place." Sara suggested trying to wriggle out of it.  
  
"Fine, stay." Grissom gave up on getting Greg to leave and turned back to his investigation, "Sara, go lie down."  
  
Sara reluctantly lay down on her back. Greg started to laugh and Nick was fighting back a grin. Sara glared at the both of them.  
  
"You're not off the hook either Nick." Grissom said smiling, "You're our shooter."  
  
"Alright, where do I stand?" he asked going along with this better than Sara had.  
  
"10 feet away, for now." Grissom said and Nick backed up about 10 feet, "Hold your arms like you're shooting Sara." He commanded.  
  
Nick did that, "It's the wrong angle." Sara said propping herself up on her elbows so she could see, "Why couldn't the vic. have been like this?" she asked.  
  
"He has a hole in his shoulder." Nick said ruining her chance to sit up, "Gris, as far as I can see, this shot isn't going to work."  
  
"Maybe not. Nick move closer." Grissom said.  
  
Nick closed the gap to 5 feet. He shook his head, "It's still impossible. The angle's wrong."  
  
"Then keep moving." Grissom said. Nick closed the gap until he was one foot away.  
  
"Grissom, this isn't working. Even if that was the right angle, there was no GSR." Sara said.  
  
Grissom ignored her, "Nick stand over top of her." He ordered.  
  
Nick looked at him as if he was crazy and Greg who had been laughing so hard started wheezing and gasping for air. Nick reluctantly stepped over top of her, both looking very obviously uncomfortable. Grissom didn't seem to notice, or if he did, he didn't care.  
  
"That's the right angle, but if I did shoot Sara, she'd be covered in GSR." Nick pointed out.  
  
"It's the same thing for the bullet. There was no GSR nearby either." Sara added.  
  
Greg calmed down enough to wheeze out, "Nick would have to be 10 feet tall for that theory to work!"  
  
"Are we done?" Sara asked impatiently not making any effort to hide her discomfort.  
  
"I think so." Grissom said. Sara practically leapt up, Nick stumbled away and Greg sniggered. "Back to work, Greggo." Grissom said, "Role playing's over."  
  
Greg gave a pretend pout before walking out.  
  
"So where does this leave us?" Nick asked.  
  
"What about the hat? Who did it belong to?" Sara asked.  
  
"The victim. I interviewed at least 15 people and not one of them had a real motive."  
  
"More dead ends."  
  
"Hold on, maybe not." Grissom said frowning.  
  
"You found a way to get around this?" Nick asked skeptically.  
  
"No, I'm just saying that we should do the math." Grissom said walking over to the white board and grabbing a marker and uncapping it. He drew a line to represent the ground. He grabbed a protractor and measured 72.5 degrees. "Now, we just connect the dots . . ." he said drawing in the rest of the angle , "and we have our shooter hanging in the sky." He said sounding confused.  
  
"What do you think? A skydiver?" Sara suggested.  
  
"I don't think so." Grissom said, "If he was, how could he get away unnoticed?"  
  
"Too low for a plane, how about a helicopter?" Nick asked.  
  
"That would scare the ostriches." Sara agreed.  
  
"Why would a helicopter land in the middle of the desert?" Grissom said.  
  
"Can you think of anything else that is that low flying?" Sara asked.  
  
Nick sighed, "Maybe he was in a tree." He said.  
  
"Wait! There was a dead one near where the body was found!" Sara remembered.  
  
"Possible, but I don't think it was that tall." Grissom said.  
  
"Grissom, you've just ruled everything out!" Nick cried.  
  
He had to agree, it didn't look like they had any options left. Was it possible this was a case forensics couldn't solve? "Lets pinpoint the location of the shooter." Grissom suggested (A/n: I'll explain the math here just because it's an important part and if you don't understand this you won't understand the rest of the case) He drew a right angle to their existing drawing and labeled it. "We're missing an angle so, simple math. 180 minus 90-"  
  
"90" Sara cut in.  
  
"And 90 minus 72.5-"  
  
"17.5" Sara said again with the right answer.  
  
Grissom wrote the 3 angles and circled the top on they had just calculated. "Our killer was right there when he shot the vic." He said smiling knowingly.  
  
"That would explain the downward angle on the first 2 shots, but what about the lengths?" Nick asked.  
  
"Well, we know that one was at least 10 feet, but the others, we'd need more evidence to find." Grissom said.  
  
"And we still don't even know why he was suspended in the air. Even if we find the killer that's not going to stand a chance in court." Nick pointed out.  
  
"Well then, I think you need to make another trip to our crime scene." Grissom said watching Sara's disgusted expression. "It needs to be done." He reminded her.  
  
"What about those unknown samples I found on his shoe?" Sara asked.  
  
He shrugged "Just glazed, splinters. Probably from the fence."  
  
"The fence wasn't glazed." Nick said frowning.  
  
"What?" Grissom was stunned.  
  
"The vic. was repairing it and I noticed it wasn't glazed." Nick said.  
  
"It might be wicker." Sara suggested.  
  
Grissom, who had been the one to pick up the sample in the lab, pulled it out and placed it on the desk. It looked like Sara was right, it was wicker, but it was unnecessarily thick. It was a little less than 1 cm long and about twice as thick. This didn't add up either.  
  
"Grissom? This doesn't look like ordinary deck chair wicker." Nick said stating the obvious.  
  
"What about the glaze? Anything special?" Sara asked.  
  
"Well, it's fire-retardant, but that's about it." Grissom said grimly.  
  
"The only thing I can think of is that the vic must've had enormous feet not to have felt that on his shoe." Nick said.  
  
"That's not all he had on there." Sara muttered cringing at the memory.  
  
"What else?" Grissom asked hopefully.  
  
"I cleaned off about a pound of ostrich crap." Sara said.  
  
Nick had been thinking of anything that you could fly with that had wicker. But even if he did figure this out, their body was at the opposite end of the field. It was unlikely that the wicker had anything to do with their murder. But why was it fire retardant?  
  
'What would wicker be doing near fire?' Nick wondered, 'And why at that height? How could you even have a flame that high up? Fire creates heat and heat rises so-'  
  
"That's it!" he cried.  
  
"What's it?" Sara asked.  
  
"I know where the killer was when he shot him!" Nick said.  
  
"Well?" Grissom asked open to any new ideas in this dead end case.  
  
"The wicker's from the basket of a hot air balloon." He said grinning widely.  
  
A/n: great place to stop. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW!!  
  
~Finger Smith~ 


	11. Colton

Catherine drummed her fingers on the desk and glanced at her watch yet again. Simon Colton was 20 minutes late. She regretted not picking him up from his house herself. She heard a knock at the door.  
  
"Finally." She mumbled getting up to answer it. But it wasn't Mr. Colton. Instead, Brass stood clutching an annoyed looking teenager's shoulder. He looked up at her briefly before returning his gaze to the floor. Brass looked a bit surprised.  
  
"Our trigger-happy little friend here-"  
  
"I never shot the gun!" he protested wrenching free from Brass's grasp.  
  
"Right," Brass said shooting Catherine a disbelieving look, "Anyway, he wants to talk to his dad."  
  
"So would I, but he was supposed to be here 20 minutes ago." She said looking at Todd, "Do you have any idea where he would be?"  
  
Todd shook his head.  
  
"He was a flight risk Catherine." Brass said shaking his head, "He knows we're on to him and now he's taken off. He could be in another state by now."  
  
"Wouldn't surprise me," Todd mumbled.  
  
"What was that?" Brass asked.  
  
"I said, 'It wouldn't surprise me that he's taken off.'"  
  
"Why?" Catherine asked.  
  
"He never stays in one place too long. He moved twice in the last 3 years, though one was just to avoid rent payment or something. And now, you've given him another reason to leave." He explained.  
  
"We've given him another reason to leave?" Brass asked dubiously, "Who's bright idea was it to take the gun to school?"  
  
"Wait! You think he's guilty?" Catherine asked Todd trying to mask her surprise. She had known he didn't like him, but to believe he was a murderer. . .  
  
Todd shrugged, "Sure, why else would he run?"  
  
"You don't happen to remember what happened the night of the murder do you? Anything unusual?" Catherine asked seeing that Todd could be of more use than she had thought.  
  
"We were living with my stepfather at the time, but that was 6 years ago! You honestly believe I can remember stuff like that? " He asked ending Catherine's hopes of getting any more clues. She would have to call Simon Colton's number again.  
  
"Does your mother know you're here?" Brass said sharply liking their little suspect less and less.  
  
He shook his head and smirked, "She thinks I'm at school."  
  
"You're skipping?" Catherine asked as if this was old news.  
  
"He's been suspended. He's supposed to be home." Brass said leading Todd away from her, "And that's exactly where you're going." He said taking him roughly by the shoulder again and leading him to the parking lot. She noticed he had a small bruise hidden partially by his t-shirt on his left arm. She frowned.  
  
"Hey! I helped you!" she heard him protest.  
  
"You gave an opinion, that's not the same thing."  
  
She heard the boy swear as they turned the corner into the main lobby. She smiled. Brass may not have found that useful, but she did. It was always important to know what kind of a man they were dealing with- especially from someone else's point of view. She sighed and headed after them to use the phone. And that was when she ran into their prime suspect. Catherine noticed a disheveled looking man who appeared to be lost asking the receptionist for directions.  
  
"Excuse me, but are you Simon Colton?" she asked tapping him on the shoulder.  
  
He turned around and she noticed how horrible he looked. His dark brown eyes were ringed with red circles and his untidy mess of brown hair looked disgustingly greasy. His ears stuck out a little and he looked like he hadn't shaved in a few weeks. He smelt like dead fish. But the thing that stuck out the most was that he looked more like a homeless man with his baggy pants 2 sizes too large and his dirty plaid shirt than a hardened criminal. It was hard to believe this man had once worked in an office building or had ever worn a suit.  
  
"I am." He said his face darkening and he crossed his arms over his chest, "Who are you?"  
  
"Catherine Willows," she said extending her hand and plastering on a fake smile. He gave a weak one in return and shook her hand. He was not over enthusiastic about being here and making it very obvious. She herself wasn't too thrilled to have to interview him and even more annoyed that he was 20 minutes late, which, if he had noticed, didn't comment on. "I'm with the crime lab. If you would follow me to the interrogation room." She said politely, leading him down the hall. She grabbed Warrick from where he was going over previously collected evidence and watched holding in a laugh as he wrinkled his nose at Colton's smell.  
  
"We recovered his gun," she said pushing a laminated photo of the Smith &Wesson towards him, "From your son, Todd's, locker. He says you gave it to him. It that true?" she asked.  
  
Colton glanced down at the picture briefly but made no move to pick it up. He stared at her through half lidded eyes and paused before speaking. He looked remarkably like his son with the same messy hair and dark eyes. "No." He said simply offering no elaboration.  
  
"No?" she repeated wondering if he was capable of multi-syllabic words. She tried again, "Does it belong to you?" she asked. She already knew the answer, but she needed to check if he was lying.  
  
"Yes," he replied truthfully.  
  
"You reported it stolen 6 years ago and now it turns up in your son's locker. How do you explain that?" Warrick asked stepping forward.  
  
"I don't know why Todd had it if that's what you're asking." He replied coolly. It was obvious to them he was a sloppy liar. He knew perfectly well where it was the whole time. Catherine's first impression of him had changed. She hadn't liked him to begin with, but now she was annoyed.  
  
"Alright, cut the crap." She told him keeping her annoyance from her voice, "Todd told us you gave it to him."  
  
He shrugged, "What can I say, the boy's a liar."  
  
"Fine," she said, "You do know it was used in a homicide 6 years ago? In the murder of your former boss? Sound familiar?" she asked.  
  
"I don't work there anymore." He said calmly.  
  
"Yes, I can see." Catherine muttered under her breath, "Where do you work now?"  
  
"I sell diving equipment to tourists at Lake Mead." He said.  
  
"How do you go from business man to running a rental down at Lake Mead?" Catherine asked.  
  
"Back to your boss," Warrick cut in sensing they were off topic, "You quit 6 months after your boss was killed. Were you running from something? Guilt maybe?" he asked directly.  
  
He laughed hollowly, "You think I killed him? That's what it looks like?" He ran a hand through his hair and let out his breath, "That's what your evidence says, right? Well then, the report I filed saying the gun had been stolen must be there too." He said confidently.  
  
"It is." Catherine said, "How about your friend? Kyle Baldwin, I think it was? What can you tell us about him."  
  
"Former friend." He corrected.  
  
"And why's that?" she asked.  
  
His face remained emotionless, "I'd say you know that."  
  
"Refresh my memory."  
  
"He stole my wife and framed me for murder. I'd say that's grounds to hate him."  
  
"Framed you for murder?"  
  
"Yeah. He killed our boss and framed me for it. I take it that's what you want to know?" he asked.  
  
Catherine was amazed at his co-operation, "How do you know he did?"  
  
"I was there." He said calmly. Catherine couldn't tell if he was lying.  
  
"Then could you tell us the weapon?" she tested.  
  
He gave her a puzzled look, "My gun?" he said as if this was perfectly obvious, "Baldwin stole it from me a few weeks before."  
  
"No, I mean the other weapon. The one used to cut him up." She said.  
  
"Oh," he paused, "He used a letter opener."  
  
"Would he still have that?" Warrick asked.  
  
Colton shrugged, "He never throws anything away."  
  
Warrick didn't know if even a pack rat would keep anything involved in a murder, but knew they would have to sit through a few more interviews if they were going to get to the bottom of this. Colton had been strangely helpful and Warrick wondered if he was just pinning it on the guy because of past conflicts. He thought the interview was over, but Catherine had one last question to ask.  
  
"Do you know your son has a large bruise on his arm?" she asked.  
  
His gaze darkened, "Yes," he replied curtly, "And if you're finished, I'd like to go." He said standing up.  
  
"Then I suppose you also know that he came here looking for you this afternoon?" Catherine asked.  
  
He spun around and stared at her looking alarmed. Catherine was taken by surprise that such a simple statement would have such an effect, "He came here? How?"  
  
Catherine and Warrick exchanged a glance, "He was suspended, so naturally he got some free time."  
  
"No you morons! Did his mother drop him off?" he snapped.  
  
Catherine was about snap back, when she remembered, "No, he said she didn't know he was here."  
  
"Shit!" he muttered, then changing his mood to a calmer one, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some business to take care of." Catherine made no attempt to stop him and neither did Warrick. Truth be told, they were both stunned.  
  
"That was strange." Warrick said breaking the silence. Catherine was thinking the same thing until something dawned on her.  
  
"Why now? Why did Colton give his son the gun now? Why now?" she asked herself.  
  
"I don't know. Revenge, maybe?" Warrick asked.  
  
"Over what? Stealing his wife and son, maybe, but something must've happened recently." Catherine said.  
  
"How about the bruise on the boy's arm? Colton reacted pretty strongly to that." Warrick suggested.  
  
"You're thinking child abuse?" Catherine asked, "I think we need an outsider's view of the family. How does Alex Rivers sound?"  
  
"I suppose it couldn't hurt." Warrick said. 


End file.
